Page 30 of Mistlefoe
There’s no way she’s hitting on me because basically until a week ago, she hated my guts. So, the only way I can deal with this sudden desire for her to actually hit on me is by joking.
I place one arm across my chest and the other hand to hide my crotch. “Are you objectifying me?”
“What?” The question comes out shrill and her face reddens. “No! I was thinking about ax throwing, you dork.”
Well, that’s disappointing. I drop my hands and walk over to her, pretending like I’m not a bit hurt.
“What do you mean?”
“We should have a ridiculous booth like throwing an ax to a row of gingerbread cookies.”
“That sounds weird enough that I’m sure Richard will love it.” Our boots scrunch against the dry gravel. As we head to the driveway, I ask her, “How many axes are we talking about?”
“I guess two if we’re pairing everyone up.”
“Then I got it covered.”
Sierra looks up at me. “I knew you had a lumberjack look but I didn’t know you actually were one.”
“It’s kinda new.” I shrug. “I bought this land after retiring because I wanted to be far from all the eyes, and ended up surrounded by trees instead.”
“So you decided to kill them?” Her voice is teasing so I don’t take it too seriously.
Yet, I still give a serious answer. “Hey, I’ll have you know I’m the sole provider of firewood for five families plus myself.”
“That’s actually cool, not gonna lie.”
I put a hand on my chest. “Two compliments in one day? My heart can’t take it.”
“Two?” She frowns.
“This plus all the admiration to my abs.”
“I wasn’t—” She splutters and coughs. “I wasn’t admiring them.”
“Sure…” I drag the word out and it fades not because I’m done teasing her, but because I’ve set sight on her truck. “What the hell, woman? Did you cram the whole store in there?”
“Kind of?” She all but skips over to lift one end of the tarp that protected everything from the elements, and it’s almost like opening Pandora’s box. There’s an explosion of tinsel, garland, and some oversized candy canes underneath. “Ta da! I got everything I could and it’s not just decorations, there’s also crafts stuff. The only thing I couldn’t get was that big velcro tree, some asshole bought it before me.”
I laugh. “I’m the asshole. It’s in my shed.”
“Oops.” Sierra grins at me.
“Okay so, if you want to start bringing in a few light stuff, the shed’s in the back.”
“I saw it,” she says. “It was behind this lumberjack chopping wood like it’s the eighteen hundreds.”
I ignore her. “I’m gonna go get some baskets to get all this stuff.”
“Roger that.” She opens the trunk and hoists herself on it with her arms until she sits on the popped door. I watch in amusement how she swivels around and stands up to push some shopping bags toward the edge. Then she repeats the process going down.
This will take all day if left to her own devices.
Shaking my head, I walk ahead of her to open the shed. I pull up the two rough hewn baskets I use to cart around the wood logs. I’m sure something will fit in them.
Sierra pops her head in, curls falling all over her shoulders. “Is this where you keep all the dead bodies?”
“Sure, if by dead bodies you mean more wood, tools, and hockey equipment,” I answer with a deadpanned expression.
